


To Bear Lightly What Needs Must Be

by impala_deviations (Aedemiel)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Sam, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aedemiel/pseuds/impala_deviations
Summary: Sam is cursed and only Dean can provide relief.





	1. Chapter 1

There was no more time. Seconds seemed to tick by agonizingly slowly and Sam arched his back as the sensations swept through him.

“You’re having another attack?” Dean said, briefly looking at him in surprise before returning his attention to the darkened road ahead, lit only by the powerful headlight beams of the Impala.

“Yeah,” Sam ground out, gritting his teeth and leaning his fevered brow against the cool glass of the window. “I know. The time in between is getting shorter. Last time was just three hours ago.”

“Damn it,” Dean swore. “There’s nothing around here. We’re a half hour away from the motel. Twenty minutes if I really put my foot down.” He peered through the gloom, hoping against hope that something suitable might suddenly appear.

“No,” Sam gasped. “I’m not going to make it.” He hated admitting it, hated how weak he was. He even hated how Dean was the one who had to take care of him when he was in this state. Even though Dean had not voiced any complaints.

Ahead, Dean noticed a break in the trees and slowed down. Sure enough, a logging road that joined the highway appeared. Out of options, he swung the Impala onto the rough dirt track, the back end fishtailing and the tires squealing in protest. Road was too fancy a word for this lumpy trail of mud, but it did turn to the right and hide them from any passing motorists. It was too late for anyone still to be working, he hoped, since the only way back would be to reverse. There wasn’t enough room to turn around.

As soon as he brought the car to a halt, Sam scrambled out of his seat and staggered towards the slender trunk of a young sapling. He pushed at it experimentally and it bent easily. 

“What are you doing?” Dean said and he turned to see his brother standing in front of the car, his body illuminated by the headlamps. His breath misted in the freezing February night air and Sam shivered as he realized how cold he was. “Come here.”

Sam gratefully obeyed, picking his way over the loose ground to where Dean was waiting. “Where do you want me?”

“Here, face away from me and bend over the hood.” His brother’s voice was gruff with either irritation or arousal, Sam couldn’t be sure which. His body was too tight and heavy with need to care. He turned his back on Dean and leaned against the still warm hood of the Impala, pleasant against the chill in the air. He unbuckled his belt, his breath coming in short pants as he unfastened his jeans and shoved them to the ground.

He heard the faint click of a tube cap and then one slick finger slid down between his butt cheeks and encircled his entrance, making him gasp and quiver. He wished Dean could take his time over this part, but they knew from past experience that spinning this out too long had serious consequences. So he bit his lip and groaned as that finger slipped inside him, his cock twitching with anticipation. 

Working quickly, Dean added a second finger and began to work on stretching him out. Since it had only been a few hours since the last time they’d done this, his body was already responding, opening to his brother in welcome. He felt himself relax, even as Dean added a third finger and Sam sighed. The first hints of pleasure teased at his senses and his hips jerked as Dean continued to work his body silently.

When his brother withdrew his hand, Sam wanted to howl. But he resisted the urge because he knew what was coming. Sure enough, he felt the insistent press of Dean’s cock against his entrance and then the slow, burning slide as he entered. It was like an electric current applied to his spine. He huffed out a breath and screwed his eyes tightly shut as he felt his brother bottom out and then pause.

“What’s… wrong…” he managed.

“Nothing,” Dean said in a clipped tone. “Just give me a moment.”

Sam waited, but he hoped whatever Dean was doing would not take long. Finally, just when he was beginning to fear Dean would never start moving, his brother began to thrust. Long, powerful strokes that almost lifted Sam off his feet and drove the screaming desire within him higher until he could no longer think or speak. Dean’s fingers pressed into his hips, so hard that Sam would have an impressive array of bruises tomorrow. 

Over and over again, Dean slammed into his body with more energy and force than Sam thought possible given how many times he’d already had to do this today. Somehow Dean made every time seem like the first time. But that was a mere 24 hours ago. It felt like a lifetime.

Any further distracted thoughts were blown away by Dean leaning over and whispering into his ear. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” Sam assured him, and focused again on how it felt to be comprehensively fucked on the wide, shining expanse of the Impala’s hood. He didn’t know what was going to happen, if they could even lift this curse before it killed him. And he didn’t know if Dean was even going to be able to look at him again once it was all over, let alone keep hunting with him. But it was pointless to worry about it now. Just as it was pointless to worry if there was something wrong with him that he was enjoying having sex with his brother and secretly wished they could continue once Rowena undid this awful curse.

Dean had begun to increase in speed and his rhythm became as ragged as his breathing. His cock felt like a steel rod, a sure sign that Dean was almost there. Just the thought that his brother was about to come inside him brought Sam to the brink. Dean gave a shout and as heat spread through Sam’s body he tumbled over the edge and cried out his release.

They stayed where they were, breathing hard, their bodies cooling in the icy air. Sam’s knees were shaking from the chill and from the incredibly powerful orgasm that Dean had managed to wring from him despite his exhaustion. Dean gave a groan and then pulled away, leaving Sam aching with the loss of him. But they couldn’t stay here, like this. It was too cold, and there was always the possibility that someone might show up. So he accepted the packet of tissues Dean handed him and hastily cleaned up before pulling up his jeans and refastening them.

“Let’s go,” Dean said and when Sam turned around, his brother was fully dressed and looking impatient. He got back in the car and Sam followed, desperate to ignore the pricking sensation in his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

_Then - 36 hours earlier_

 

“Watch out, Sam!” Dean yelled as another bolt of fire shot past his ear and singed his hair. God damn it, he really hated witches. And this one was nastier than most.

Sam didn’t respond but Dean didn’t really expect him to. He had no idea where his brother was, which meant neither did Kim Morrell, kindergarten teacher and secret witch. Dean wondered briefly why she’d suddenly gotten so careless, hexing so many people in town she’d drawn the attention of several hunters. According to Sam’s research, she was old and experienced and really should have known better.

He heard the loud retort of Sam’s gun and peered over the piano he’d been hiding behind while he reloaded his pistol. Behind him, the firebolt the witch had thrown had caught at something that was beginning to burn with a familiar dusty smell. Some sort of fabric, the drapes probably. He still couldn’t see Sam, and the sound had only given him a vague sense of direction. Kim had her back to him as she scanned the room looking for his brother.

He had a clear shot. In one fluid movement he got to his feet and fired, the witch-killing bullet impacting with her body in a fraction of a second, but he had been too slow. She’d still managed to fire out one last spell and to his horror he spotted Sam at last, hidden in the shadows behind stacks of plastic chairs. The spell hit Sam directly in the side of his head and for a moment illuminated his face in a strange purplish light before fading. His brother gasped and collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Dean vaulted over the piano, spending no more than a few seconds confirming that Kim was dead before dashing to Sam’s side.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Sam gasped, his breathing labored. He was sweating and shivering, his gaze clouded and confused. Dean laid one hand on his brother’s brow and swore under his breath at the way the skin there burned. Sam moaned and rolled onto his side, curling into a ball.

“OK,” Dean said, pushing away the useless panic that arose whenever Sam was in trouble. He needed to focus. “Do you think you can stand?”

Sam didn’t answer, he was making a sort of sobbing sound and it wasn’t clear he could even hear Dean speak. _Fuck. There was no way he could carry Sam, he had to get him on his feet!_ He crouched down, tucking his hands under Sam’s body and began to urge him upwards. Sam eventually seemed to catch on to what he was doing and responded, levering himself up and slinging on arm across Dean’s shoulders to support his weight.

“OK, I got you. Come on, let’s get back to the motel.” Sam’s head lolled on Dean’s shoulder but he managed to stagger along with Dean’s help. It took forever to get back to the front doors and Dean was sure that something else was going to go wrong. But for once, luck was smiling on them and no curious security guard or bored cop showed up to make life difficult.

Back at the Impala, Dean wrestled open the back door and shoved Sam inside. Sam refused to let him go, and he collapsed on top of his brother with a grunt.

“Lemme go, Sam,” he said, struggling against Sam’s hold.

“Dean,” Sam gasped as he crushed Dean against his chest. “Oh, God. Dean, help me.”

“I will. I am. But you gotta let me go, so I can get us out of here,” Dean soothed, stroking Sam’s brow and noting his temperature was still rising. “You got hit with some bad mojo, OK? But we’ll fix it, I swear.”

Sam nodded and gradually released his grip. Dean began to back out of the car when Sam’s hand grabbed his hair and he yelped in agony.

“Sam!”

“Don’t leave me,” Sam begged.

“I’m not,” Dean told him, wincing at the pain. “I’m gonna be in the front, driving. Just hold on.” He tugged himself free, watching Sam reach for him again in vain and bit his lip. He hated it, but he was going to have to ask Rowena for help. He closed the back door, jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. As he swung out of the parking lot and headed for their motel, he juggled with his phone one-handed, trying to find Rowena’s number.

It rang four times before the witch answered. “Dean Winchester,” she said stonily. “It’s four in the morning.”

“I know,” Dean said as apologetically as he could. “I’m sorry. But Sam got hit with a curse and I need your help.”

“A curse?” Rowena said sharply. “What kind of curse?”

“I don’t know,” Dean told her. “We were fighting this witch--”

“I see,” Rowena interrupted. “You were fighting one of my sisters and she got one over on you. Forgive me if I fail to see how this is my problem.”

“Rowena,” Dean grated. “Like it or not, you’re supposed to be helping us. We can’t shove the devil back in the Cage if Sam’s taken out.” He inhaled steadily, trying to calm his temper since the witch didn’t respond well to threats. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh you will, will you?” Rowena said in a sweeter tone. Dean wasn’t buying it. “Here’s my price. A day in your library. Unsupervised.”

“No way,” Dean snapped.

“Och, well then, good luck breaking that curse, eh?” she drawled and hung up. Dean glared at the phone and tossed it into the passenger seat. _Fuck Rowena, he could find help somewhere else._

The Impala’s suspension protested at the rough treatment as he turned too quickly into the badly maintained parking lot of the Yellow Door Inn, a motel that barely merited its solitary star. Despite how strangely busy the lot was, he was able to find a parking spot close to their room.

Sam was moaning and thrashing around in the back and it took Dean several minutes to calm him down enough to convince him to get out and stumble into their room. He hauled Sam’s semi-conscious body over to the nearest bed and laid him down, his brother’s long legs dangling off the end. Sweat beaded Sam’s face and when Dean laid the back of his hand on Sam’s forehead, he was hotter than ever.

“Shit,” he said with feeling and went to pull out his phone, then swore again when he remembered he’d left it in the car. “I’ll be right back.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sam blinked his eyes open to see an ugly lamp and cheap alarm clock on the rickety nightstand and frowned to himself. He was lying on his right side, which meant the lamp should have been behind him.  _ He was in Dean’s bed?  _ A strange feeling curled in the pit of his stomach.  _ How long had he been here? What happened to the witch they were supposed to kill?  _ Flashes of memory danced just out of reach, none of it made sense. He heard the sound of the motel door and turned, wincing at the heat that washed through his body like a wave.

“Sam?” Dean said, his face tight with stress and worry.

“Dean,” Sam slurred, his tongue apparently not fully under his command. “Wha’ happ’n’d?”

“Bitch witch hit you with some kind of curse,” Dean said succinctly. Sam rolled onto his back and tried to remember. But it was all a blank after they had left the motel.

“Curse,” he said stupidly. “Wassit do?”

“Not sure,” Dean told him. “You’re feverish, like you’ve got the flu. But I never heard of a flu curse. What would be the point?”

“I don’t feel  _ that  _ bad,” Sam observed. “I’m hot, yeah.” He started to fumbled at his shirt buttons, but his fingers were too uncoordinated to undo them.

“OK, let me help,” Dean said. He sat down on the bed next to Sam and put Sam’s arms around his neck. “Sit up for a moment, I’ll get your jacket off.”

“And shirt,” Sam said.

“Sure,” Dean replied as he levered Sam into an upright position. Sam leaned forward and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder. Dean smelled of sweat and cordite and a faint hint of his aftershave. He’d never noticed how good that scent was before and he inhaled deeply.

“You all right there?” Dean asked as he threaded Sam’s arms out of his jacket. Sam nodded happily, tucking his head into Dean’s neck and breathing in that incredible aroma. Dean tossed the jacket onto the floor and then gently disengaged Sam’s hold on his neck so that he could unbutton his shirt.

Sam watched Dean’s deft fingers as they quickly moved down the line of buttons, breathing harder as his brother approached the end. And when Dean began to push the shirt off his shoulders, Sam’s head tilted back and he stared straight into those familiar green eyes. He felt slightly light-headed in a good way, like he’d had a few beers but not so many as to be properly drunk, and he grinned sloppily at Dean.

“Pretty,” he said, referring to his brother’s eyes. Dean furrowed his brow at him and kept working to get him out of his shirt.  _ Was that the wrong thing to say? _ Sam couldn’t decide.

“Better?” his brother asked when he was done. Sam considered it for a moment, and shifted uncomfortably. His clothes seemed too tight and restrictive, and he felt an overwhelming need to be free of them.

“Jeans,” he said.

Dean nodded and got up, tugging off Sam’s boots without even bothering to unlace them before returning to undo the waistband of his jeans. Sam’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of his brother unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Arousal swept through him and he could feel his body hardening in response.  _ That… wasn’t quite right, was it?  _

“Uh, Sam?” Dean said as he lifted his brother’s hips to pull his jeans down. The feeling of being stripped slowly and methodically was the only thing Sam could focus on. Need, pure and demanding spiked through him. “You uh, you feeling OK?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam purred, sliding his hands across his stomach.  _ He was still wearing too many clothes and Dean definitely needed to get with the program. _ He pulled his t-shirt up over his chest and then sat up to take it off.

“Whoa there, buddy,” Dean said in alarm, still working Sam’s jeans off his legs. Sam ignored him, the insistent thrum of lust in his veins. As soon as Dean had discarded his pants, Sam began to wiggle out of his shorts, drawing a yelp of shock from his brother.

“Sam, wait. Leave those on,” Dean said, placing one hand on his arm. Sam could feel the warmth of his brother’s skin on his and he wanted more, so he grabbed Dean’s other arm and pulled. Taken off guard, Dean collapsed on top of him with a startled exhalation of breath. Laughing in triumph, Sam began to push at Dean’s jacket, shoving it off his shoulders until it had tangled, trapping Dean’s arms behind his back.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean swore. “Sam, what are you doing?”

Sam took hold of Dean’s shirt and yanked him closer, covering his mouth with his own. Dean’s lips were still parted from speaking and so he was easily able to plunge his tongue inside. Dean bucked and rolled off, falling to the floor with a crash. Sam turned onto his side and peered over the edge of the bed.

Dean had managed to struggle out of his jacket and was glaring furiously at him. “What. The. Fuck!”

“Come back to bed,” Sam implored, giving his brother the sultriest look he could manage. Dean’s eyes flared with panic.

“Sam, I dunno what’s going on here, but just stay there,” he instructed sternly. The effect somewhat ruined by the crablike way he was scuttling away. Sam pouted at him,  _ why was Dean being such a spoilsport?  _ He watched with hooded eyes as Dean sat down at the table and place a call, all the while studying him warily. 

“Rowena?” 

_ Why was Dean calling her when Sam was right here?  _ He couldn’t hear the conversation but he recognized Dean’s tone, the one he used when he was backed into a corner. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Dean exploded, moving the phone away from his face and looking like he wanted to throw it out the window. He tossed it onto the table instead and began to pace, wiping a hand over his face in distress. Sam could hear Rowena’s voice coming tinnily through the phone’s speaker.

“Dean. Are you still there?”

Dean snatched up his phone again. “I’m here,” he growled. He thrust one hand into his hair and his t-shirt lifted to reveal a stripe of bare skin. Sam’s mouth went dry. He slowly got to his feet, discarding his underwear and tottered over to where Dean was still pacing back and forth. When he saw Sam standing unsteadily in front of him he froze. Delighted, Sam dropped to his knees and grabbed Dean’s waistband for stability. Before Dean could react, he licked a wet line across his brother’s stomach and then slid his hands up under his t-shirt. 

Dean let out shriek and leaped backwards, out of reach. Sam shuffled forward determinedly and reached for him again, irritated when Dean swatted his hands away.

“Rowena, there has to be another way,” he barked into the phone as he evaded Sam’s hands for the second time.

Whatever the witch said in response made him pause, and Sam launched himself at his brother, sending the pair of them sprawling on the ground. He mouthed at Dean’s neck, making his brother squirm and pant, but somehow Dean had still retained hold of his phone.

“Fine,” he spat. “I hate it, but you’re right. We’ll meet you there.” He took the phone away from his ear and frowned at it. “Bitch hung up on me.”

“Whatever,” Sam said, ripping Dean’s shirt open and sending buttons flying in all directions.


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean returned to the motel room with his phone, it seemed Sam had roused slightly and was looking at him with clouded eyes.

“Sam?” he prompted, noting his dilated pupils and rapid breathing. And he was slurring his words.  _ This was not good.  _ He tried to explain what had happened but he didn’t think Sam understood, instead his brother rolled onto his back and started squinting at the mottled ceiling.

Sam asked him about the curse and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.  _ OK, he was out of it, but his brain was still working in there.  _ “You’re feverish, like you’ve got the flu. But I never heard of a flu curse. What would be the point?” 

Sam turned his head to look at him, the pupils so large now he could barely see the irises. There was a secret smile dancing around his mouth, unlike any expression he’d ever seen on Sam’s face before. 

“I don’t feel  _ that  _ bad,” Sam said, his eyes intent on Dean. “I’m hot, yeah.” He drawled this out in the most peculiar fashion before pawing helplessly at his shirt. Since his face was pink and wet with sweat, perhaps cooling him down would help him think straight. Dean decided the best way to deal with this was to treat it as if it were the flu, just like when Sam was a kid. He sat down on the bed, pulled Sam into a sitting position and began to wrestle him out of his jacket. Sam nuzzled into his neck in a way that would have seemed odd when he was 12 and was damned strange given he was an adult. 

But despite his protestations to the contrary, maybe Sam was feeling ill and regressing into a childlike state. That thought made him stop cold.  _ Could Sam be literally regressing in age like Benjamin Button? Was that what this curse was? _

“You all right there?” Dean asked and his worst fears seemed to be confirmed when Sam nodded wordlessly before snuggling into him again. Dean dropped Sam’s jacket and carefully moved Sam’s arms from around his neck so that he could unbutton his shirt. He made quick work of it, Sam was breathing too fast and Dean worried that he was beginning to panic. But when he pushed the shirt off Sam’s shoulders, his brother’s head lolled back drunkenly and he gave a lopsided grin. Dean was at a loss. 

“Pretty,” Sam mumbled. Dean had no idea what he was talking about and wondered if he was hallucinating.  _ God help him, he didn’t want to go through that again. _

“Better?” he asked, watching Sam’s reactions closely. His brother squirmed on the bed, shoving at his clothes as though he couldn’t bear to have them touching his skin.

“Jeans,” Sam managed hoarsely.

_ So maybe he was still too warm.  _ Dean yanked his boots off and tossed them aside and then began to unfasten his brother’s pants. Sam made a strange, breathy sound and his hips twitched. That got Dean’s attention and his eyes flew up to Sam’s face. His brother’s eyes were closed and his mouth was open and slack. More concerned than ever, Dean returned to his task, lifting Sam’s hips to pull down his jeans. Sam groaned and Dean saw to his horror the evidence of his brother’s arousal. _ What the hell? _

“Uh, Sam?” he said. “You uh, you feeling OK?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam moaned, writhing and sliding his hands over his body. And then he sat bolt upright and pulled off his t-shirt, startling Dean who was still working on removing his jeans. He tossed them onto the floor and turned back to see Sam halfway out of his shorts. He made a sound that was definitely not a girly scream and grabbed Sam’s arm. “Sam, wait. Leave those on.” 

He wasn’t prepared for Sam to take hold of his other arm and wrench it almost out of its socket. Just like in the car earlier, he fell on top of his brother and all the air whooshed out of his mouth painfully. Sam giggled and shoved his hands into Dean’s jacket as though trying to take it off, but instead it just tangled and trapped his arms behind his back. Twisting helplessly to try and free himself from this godawful mess Sam had made, he swore. And when Sam grabbed handfuls of his shirt, his alarm began to morph into outright fright.

“Sam, what are you doing?”

Before he could muster up any more resistance, Sam had pulled him so close they were nose to nose, and then to Dean’s utter astonishment, his brother crushed their mouths together, thrusting his tongue between Dean’s parted lips. Thoroughly freaked out, Dean fought back and fell off the bed, landing hard on the floor with an ominous crunch. Breathing hard, he bit back against the pain in his shoulder and struggled out of his jacket, shoving it away from him. Sam’s head appeared over the edge of the bed, his eyes bright.

Angry and confused, Dean barked at him, “What. The. Fuck!”

But instead of snapping back at him, Sam gave him a slow smile that left no doubt to his intentions. “Come back to bed,” he said invitingly. Ice ran down Dean’s spine and he wanted to be sick. He warned Sam off as he backed away, trying not to notice his puppy dog eyes and protruding bottom lip. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Rowena’s number once more.

“Had a change of heart, have we?” Rowena greeted him, sounding amused.

“You could say that,” Dean said gruffly. “You win. You can have half a day in the library.”

“Unsupervised?” she pressed.

Dean grunted in frustration, hoping she’d missed that. “All right. But you take nothing in there and take nothing out.”

She hesitated. “Not even a notebook?” He stayed silent. “Fine. Tell me what’s going on,” she said.

“Sam’s… acting strangely. He uh… he seems very… umm…,” Dean broke off and he could hear the witch laughing at him. “He fucking kissed me, OK?”

Rowena’s laugh died. “He did what?”

“You heard me,” Dean told her, not willing to say it again. He swallowed past a lump in his throat. 

“Oh my,” she said, now deadly serious. “Tell me what happened.”

Dean described the whole encounter to her with as much detail as he could bear to remember. She made a few noises as he spoke but thankfully kept any comments to herself. When he was finished she was silent for a moment.

“I think I know which spell she used,” she said doubtfully. “It sounds like Judda’s curse. Although I’m surprised it worked on Samuel.”

“What do you mean?”

“Long before I was born, a witch called Judda lived somewhere in modern Germany near the Danish border. The story goes that Judda’s husband was unfaithful to her with a neighbor’s daughter Linza. When Judda found out what had been going on, she laid a curse on her faithless husband to make him impotent, which is a common enough curse. I’ve even used that one myself.” Rowena let out a laugh before sobering. 

“But for Linza she concocted a special spell that would make her crave sex with anyone willing until she was impregnated. If she resisted, her body temperature would rise until she passed out and died. So Linza went out and laid with as many men of the village as she could and eventually she fell pregnant, which ended the curse. But of course back then, an unmarried woman with child was cast out, thus rendering Judda’s revenge complete.”

“Sam’s a guy,” Dean objected. “He can’t get pregnant.”

“Which is why I was surprised it worked,” Rowena explained. “But I can’t think of any other spell that would override Samuel’s natural aversion to soliciting sex from his own brother.”

“So what do we do?” Dean demanded. “He’s in no state to go out picking up girls.”

Rowena made a strange sound. “Men.”

“What?”

“He won’t want to sleep with women. He’ll want a man. It’s embedded into the curse’s structure.” Rowena sounded uncomfortable and that had to be a first. Dean’s anxiety ratcheted up another notch.

“Sam’s not gay,” Dean told her.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rowena retorted. “The spell is very powerful. It can override any consideration of orientation, even taboos like incest or bestiality.”

Dean choked at that. “Jesus. Rowena, I can’t send him out to a gay bar to pick up dudes!”

“I suppose not,” she said pertly. “Can’t have a Winchester having a sexuality crisis!”

“Shut up,” Dean said, looking over to see Sam palming his erection and panting, his eyes fixed on Dean. Unnerved, he turned away. “That’s not what I mean. You should see him, Rowena. I think he’d spread his legs for anyone right now. It’s dangerous.”

“Then you’ll have to take care of business yourself, won’t you?” she said lightly.

That did it. Dean threw the phone onto the table and walked away, his face hot and his fists clenched.  _ She couldn’t seriously be suggesting he have sex with his own brother, could she? _ He could feel tiny claws of panic sinking into his skin and he tugged at his hair in distress. Behind him, Rowena was calling out to him through the phone. He grabbed it and growled at her.

“I understand it’s not ideal,” Rowena said sympathetically.

“You’re damn right it’s not fucking ideal,” Dean interrupted.

“It’ll buy us some time,” she added. “He should regain some control over himself for a while. He’ll probably have several attacks, and you’ll need to take care of each one as quickly as possible. In the meantime, I’ll work on a cure. We’ll need access to a lake.”

“A lake?” Dean said, his memory flickering. “We passed a lake on the way here. Horseshoe Lake I think it was called. It’s in Arkansas, near the Mississippi River.”

“I know it, I’ve done spellwork there before. Meet me at the lakeshore just before midnight. Tuesday night is the full moon, which will give us the best chance of breaking the curse.”

“Tuesday?” Dean said. “I’ve got to survive a whole 2 days of Sam being like this?” 

While he’d been talking, Sam had gotten out of bed and was now standing right in front of him, buck naked. Before he could react, his brother dropped to his knees and licked at his stomach. Dean let out an unmanly squawk and jumped back. But Sam wasn’t going to be dissuaded and he moved towards Dean with a determined look on his face, ignoring how Dean was slapping his hands away.

“Rowena, there has to be another way,” Dean barked into the phone. Sam was like an octopus, his hands seemed to be everywhere at once and against his will, Dean could feel his body responding.

“There isn’t,” the witch explained. “If you do nothing, Samuel’s temperature will continue to rise. In an hour, he’ll be in a coma. In three hours, he’ll be dead.”

No matter what, Dean couldn’t allow Sam to die. He couldn’t bear it. So he’d do what he had to do. Sam took advantage of the fact he was no longer fending him off to latch onto Dean’s neck and suck and nibble at his skin.  _ There was no way this should be turning him on, but God help him, it was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced. _ Rowena said something but it didn’t register.

“I said, are we agreed? We meet at Horseshoe Lake in two days?” He hated her for this, which he knew was unfair but the witch who’d cursed Sam was dead and he had nobody else to focus his rage on.

“OK,” he spat. “I hate it, but you’re right. We’ll meet you there.” He was met with a dial tone. “Bitch hung up on me,” he said.

“Whatever,” Sam replied. He grabbed Dean’s shirt and ripped it open, he heard the sound of buttons pinging off the floor and walls. And then Sam’s mouth was on his, hot and wanting and he groaned in a complex mix of arousal and confusion.  _ Sam was his brother and therefore off-limits, even if Dean were gay. Which he wasn’t.  _ So it shouldn’t have been at all arousing to feel Sam grind his hard cock against his leg.  _ No, this was… just a job he had to do. Like, holding someone’s hair when they were sick. _

But that analogy was weak and he knew it. Because intellectually he knew his reaction should be disgust and not desire, but the reality was he wanted this. And that was weird because he’d never felt like this before.  _ But the spell only affected Sam. Didn’t it? _

Sam had managed to shove Dean’s jeans and shorts down past his hips by now and had swallowed Dean’s hardening cock into his mouth. Dean’s brain checked out. He couldn’t remember why he was objecting, couldn’t think about anything but that warm, wet suction and the almost pornographic noises Sam was making.

Suddenly, Sam lifted his head and began to crawl up his body, his eyes fierce. “I want you inside me,” he growled as he straddled Dean’s hips. 

Something tickled at the back of Dean’s mind. Something he needed to ask Sam. But it slipped away and he was too focused on the moment to chase it. Desire blotted out everything but his immediate need. Feeling overheated, he pulled his shirt over his head and was rewarded with an appreciative widening of Sam’s eyes at the sight of his bare skin.

Keeping his gaze steady on his brother, he slipped two fingers into his mouth and was unable to resist a half-smile at the way Sam’s eyes crossed. Then he reached around and slid those fingers between Sam’s buttocks. Sam gasped aloud, his mouth dropping open with pleasure as Dean teased and played with his entrance.

“Oh, God, Dean…” Sam breathed.

“It’s OK,” Dean soothed. “I’m gonna take care of you, Sammy.” He needed lube but the only thing he had in his pockets was a small pot of Vaseline he used when his lips got chapped. It would have to do. He dug it out and coated his fingers liberally before returning to preparing Sam.

“It feels so good,” Sam said indistinctly, his eyes drifting closed and his hips twitching. “Need this. Need you.”

Dean probed gently at Sam’s hole which quivered. Pressing more firmly, he could feel how tight it was and the memory of the question he should have asked came rushing back. He stilled and Sam whined. 

“Sammy, I gotta ask you something,” he whispered.

“Anything,” Sam said desperately. “Just, please, don’t stop.” 

Dean resumed his gentle stroking motions. “Sam, have you ever done this before?” he said seriously. 

“No,” his brother said softly, but he didn’t sound concerned.

“So, here’s the deal, Sam. Are you sure you  _ want  _ to do it, this way? There are… other options.”

“No,” Sam said firmly after a momentary pause. “I need to feel you inside me.” He rocked against Dean’s fingers and smiled. “I trust you.”

_ Damn it. _ Dean probed once more at Sam’s entrance, enjoying the way it fluttered at the unfamiliar sensation despite himself. “Relax, Sam. Just… let go. Let it happen.” He pressed a little more firmly and Sam flinched as his finger breached that first ring of muscle. 

“Ohhh,” Sam groaned. His hips flexed instinctively and his erection twitched and bobbed against Dean’s stomach. Dean worked in slowly, stopping whenever Sam winced or flinched. And then he slid a second finger inside and the look of pleasure on Sam’s face almost brought tears to his eyes. He couldn’t quite believe they were doing this and he worried for a moment how Sam would feel afterwards. 

“I’m ready,” Sam said, keening and straining against him. “Please, Dean. I’m ready for you.”

Dean privately doubted that, but he could feel the heat of Sam’s skin against his own and Rowena’s words about the risks of coma and death came back to haunt him.  _ No matter how conflicted he felt about this, he needed to get things moving. _

He gently removed his fingers from Sam’s body and then slipped his hand between their bodies, adjusting himself to line up with Sam’s entrance. His cock was dripping with pre-come and he took advantage of that to add some extra lubrication before pressing himself against Sam.

“Last chance to back out,” he warned.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam thought he was losing his mind. He could feel Dean’s cock rubbing against his hole and he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted this right now.

“Last chance to back out,” Dean said, the effort of holding himself back evident on his face.

“Never,” Sam declared and pushed back against him, wheezing as Dean’s cock began to slowly penetrate him. It hurt and for a moment he wanted to stop, to get as far away as he could and forget the whole thing. But then a wave of desperate need crashed over him and the pain was swept away with it as he impaled himself on his brother.

Dean’s eyes were wild and he was panting and sweating. His hands cupped Sam’s ass firmly as he gently encouraged him to move, setting a slow, easy rhythm and then loosening his grip to let Sam take the reins. The discomfort of the first few moments was gone and now Sam was in the throes of ecstasy. _Who knew it could feel like this? He’d had no idea._ Somewhere, deep in his mind, a small voice reminded him that he had no business doing this with his own brother. He shoved that annoying voice away and plunged deeper into sensation, picking up the pace and feeling Dean match him, thrust for thrust.

Sam looked down at Dean’s face, pushing soaking strands of his hair out of the way so he could gaze upon his brother’s perfection. He was overwhelmed suddenly with love but finding no words to express it, contented himself with plundering that lush mouth once more. Dean tangled his tongue with Sam’s, as lost to pleasure as Sam was himself. He was making soft little grunting sounds that were the most beautiful things Sam had ever heard.

It was almost with regret that Sam felt his climax begin to build. He tried to push it away, wanting to ride this feeling a little longer. But his body wasn’t to be denied and he realized Dean had scrunched up his eyes and his breathing was coming more rapidly, suggesting he was also close. That was the thought that sent him careening over the edge, coming with a cry as he spent all over his brother’s chest. Dean tilted his head back and made a sort of guttural sound and Sam could feel him pulsing within his body, heat flooding his insides.

Exhaustion made his arms and legs weak and he collapsed on top of Dean, mindless of the slippery feel of his emission. He tucked his head into Dean’s neck and let himself drift.

* * *

 

Dean lay underneath Sam, nausea roiling in his gut. Sam had all but passed out on top of him while Dean was at war with himself. Half of him wanted to stay like this forever, and the other half wanted to run screaming into the night. After a few moments, he gently shook Sam’s shoulder and his brother lifted his head and blinked sleepy eyes at him.

“Uh, hey,” Sam said, looking confused. His gaze roamed around as he took in what he was seeing and Dean cursed as he saw a hint of fear creep into his eyes. “Dean, I…” He pushed himself upright and stared down at Dean’s stomach, wet and sticky with his release. And then he raised his eyes to meet Dean’s gaze and his mouth dropped open in shock. Scrambling backwards, he slammed into the wall and his breath coming in rapid bursts.

“Sam,” Dean said, sitting up and leaning forward.

“Just… stay away from me,” Sam hissed, holding one hand out as if to fend Dean off. He was still hyperventilating, his face was white and he was shivering.

“Sam, you’re going into shock,” Dean said gently. 

Sam nodded but Dean wasn’t sure he’d heard him. He carefully got to his feet and edged around Sam to reach the bathroom. There he quickly cleaned up his stomach and groin with a washcloth and then dampened a fresh one for Sam. His robe was hanging on the back of the door and he grabbed it and slipped it on. Unfortunately, nothing of Sam’s was hanging in here so he grabbed the largest towel he could find.

Sam hadn’t moved since he’d gone into the bathroom. He offered the washcloth and towel at arms length and although it almost killed him to do so, turned his back while Sam cleaned up. Pain throbbed in his temples. He heard Sam moving around and it took everything he had not to turn around.

“Dean,” Sam said. “You can uh…”

Dean turned slowly to see Sam sitting on the corner of his bed, dressed in his t-shirt and shorts. His head was down, his hair hanging so that Dean couldn’t see his face. Dean didn’t know what to say. Sam’s shoulders twitched and he made a sound suspiciously like a sob.

“Sammy,” he said helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

Sam lifted his head, his eyes red and his cheeks wet, breaking Dean’s heart. “Dean, what happened?”

“You don’t know?” Dean said, horrified. If Sam had awoken with no idea what they had done, no memory of the curse, no wonder he was freaked. “The curse?”

“Curse?” Sam repeated. He shook his head. “I… I was hot. Burning up. And then--”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam was warm but not very comfortable. Whatever he was lying on was lumpy and hard, but it smelled like sweat and cordite and aftershave. Dean’s aftershave. He felt a hand shaking his shoulder and he opened his eyes to find Dean’s face startlingly close. 

Bewildered, he looked around for a clue as to what was going on. “Uh, hey,” he said.  _ Was he lying on top of Dean? _ “Dean, I…” 

He could feel something wet on his stomach and he sat up. As soon as he moved he became aware of… something… inside him. His gaze fell on Dean’s bare belly, which was covered in semen.  _ Was that… his? He didn’t understand, why was he…  _ The sensation of fullness, the evidence on Dean’s body.  _ Oh God! _

Terrified, he launched himself backwards until he hit the wall with a thump. He felt dizzy and cold. Dean was sitting up and Sam went almost rigid in terror. 

“Sam,” Dean said, his face agonized as he reached out to Sam.

“Just… stay away from me!” Sam held up a hand to reinforce the idea that Dean was to come no closer. He was so cold, and he felt like he was suffocating. Dean said something else, but Sam’s hearing had gone fuzzy and muffled. He watched mutely as Dean rose and sidled off to the bathroom. 

He slumped in relief as Dean eased the door closed.  _ What the fuck was going on? All the evidence suggested that he’d just had sex with Dean, consensual sex as far as he could tell. But how the fuck did that make any goddamn sense?  _ He held his head in his hands, panic a sharp, white-edged thing that threatened his sanity. 

Dean reappeared, thankfully wrapped in his bathrobe, and offered Sam a washcloth and a towel. Absurdly grateful even though he was still appalled by what had apparently happened, he accepted them and almost wept as Dean considerately turned his back to offer him some semblance of privacy. 

He wiped the washcloth over his stomach and groin and then with a wince, around to the back to clean his ass. He wanted to vomit at the feel of what had to be Dean’s come, leaking out of him.  _ Jesus Christ. _ He gritted his teeth and kept going, before toweling off. He desperately wanted to shower, to scrub and scrub until all trace of their sin was washed away. But he didn’t have the guts to walk past Dean to reach the bathroom, so he grabbed his shorts and his discarded t-shirt and pulled them on. His legs wobbled and he staggered over to the bed, dropping down onto the corner and sinking his head into his hands. 

He took a deep breath. “Dean, you can uh…” Tears threatened and he couldn’t hold them back. He kept his head down and tried to suppress the sobs. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to see him cry.

“Sammy,” Dean said, sounding like his heart was breaking. “I’m sorry.”

Sam lifted his head. He didn’t want to ask but he had to. “Dean, what happened?”

“You don’t know?” Dean said. He looked appalled. “The curse?”

A curse? Something tickled in the back of his mind. He had a flash of memory of being in the back of the car. He was hot, so hot he thought he might burst into flames. Then it jumped abruptly to lying on this bed. Images and feelings slammed into him. Dean removing his clothes, trying to cool him down. Desire, thick and potent, drugging him and narrowing his world to one thing and one thing only. Dean. He’d kissed him, he remembered, and Dean had lost his shit.

Shame flooded through him as more memories crowded in. Dean arguing on the phone with Rowena. Him practically assaulting his brother as he tried to get answers from the witch. And then, Dean finally giving in.

“Why?” he croaked. “I’m guessing this curse made me act that way but…” More tears, he wiped them away with an angry hand. “Why would you… do this?”

“I didn’t have a choice, Sam,” Dean said in a low voice. Sam ached at the pain in those words. “Rowena said that if you didn’t give in the the curse’s cravings, you’d fall into a coma and die.”

“OK,” Sam said slowly. “But couldn’t we have just hit up a bar or... hell, hired a hooker if it came down to it?”

“We could have,” Dean allowed. “But Rowena said you had to be with a man to uh, satisfy the curse.” His cheeks were flaming. “And maybe you don’t remember but you were… desperate. You’d have let anyone fuck you, and it wasn’t safe.”

Sam stared at him, turning his words over in his mind. Dean was wrong, he remembered it now.  _ He hadn’t just wanted any sex he could get, he’d specifically wanted to be fucked. By Dean. That was the final piece that didn’t fit.  _

“Rowena was the one who suggested I uh… take care of you. I didn’t want to do it, I swear.” Sam was pretty sure that was a lie, but he didn’t challenge it. “But every alternative was worse.”

Despite his feelings of violation, Sam couldn’t fault Dean’s reasoning. “So, am I cured?”

Dean winced and Sam’s stomach dropped. “That’s the other reason it had to be me. Rowena said you might have several more attacks before she can break the curse. We’re meeting her on Tuesday at Horseshoe Lake. It’s a full moon, she said that was important.” Dean wiped a hand over his face. “So we just gotta make to Tuesday.”

Sam inhaled and exhaled, counting his breaths. It was an old meditation technique that Jess had taught him when he was studying for exams. It worked its magic, calming his jangling nerves to the point where he could think. Dean was still watching him like he was a live grenade.

“So, is it always gonna be like this?” he asked hesitantly.

“What do you mean?” Dean tightened the bathrobe around his body and Sam realized he wasn’t the only one freaking out. His mouth pinched in self-recrimination.  _ Of course Dean was uncomfortable. This was worse for him than it was for Sam, without the curse to override his disgust. Except…  _ He shoved the thought away. 

Sam waved his hand inarticulately. “I think we need to… distance ourselves from it. Keep it as short and impersonal as we can. No face to face, no kissing, no foreplay beyond what I need to prevent injury.”

Dean momentarily looked like he’d been slapped before his face shuttered and went blank. 

Sam’s throat felt like it had swollen shut. He’d explained it exactly as he’d meant to, but saying it out loud felt wrong. That kind of dirty, anonymous sex had never been his thing. Just thinking about it made him feel like a cheap whore. 

“OK, Sam,” Dean said in a strangled voice. “You’re the boss.”


	7. Chapter 7

He wasn’t disappointed that Sam didn’t want a repeat of the raw, sensual lovemaking that had almost blown a fuse in his brain. He didn’t care that was going to haunt him for months if not years. He wasn’t sorry that he’d never again get to taste that hot, wanton mouth or feel Sam ride him while he watched the pleasure on his face. And maybe if he kept telling himself that, one day he might believe it.

He’d known as soon as Sam had scrambled away from him that for a brief moment his brother believed Dean had raped him. But it had been fully consensual, if that was even the right word for actions forced on someone by a spell. Maybe in a sense, he  _ had  _ raped him. The feeling he wanted to throw up was back. He quashed the feeling by searching his bag for a bottle of whiskey and pouring it down his throat. 

Sam had gone out for a walk, which he only did when he was really upset. Dean felt like the worst son of a bitch on the planet. He’d had no choice but telling himself that felt like an excuse. His phone buzzed and he picked it up to see a text message from Sam.

 

_ Diner across the street. I need help. _

 

Dean grabbed his gun and tucked into his waistband before he ran out of the room. He dashed across the highway heedless of the traffic and burst into the diner as though running from all the hounds of hell.

Sam was curled in the corner of a booth, sweating and shivering. A motherly-looking waitress with curly brown hair was talking soothingly to him and trying to convince him to drink some of the ice water she was holding. She looked up at him in relief.

“Is he with you?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” Dean said shortly. “He’s sick. Never should have let him leave the motel.”

The waitress backed away, looking concerned. “It ain’t catching, is it?”

“No, no,” Dean assured her. “It’s uh, kidney stones.”

She winced. “My son gets those. No wonder he looks so bad. You should take him to the ER.”

“I will,” Dean promised. He knelt down by Sam’s side and touched his face. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Dean,” Sam sobbed gratefully and threw himself into Dean’s arms.

“I know, Sammy,” he said, rubbing soothing circles on Sam’s back. “I know. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He looked at the coffee on the table and began to dig into his pocket for his wallet.

“Leave it,” the waitress said kindly. “It’s only coffee.” Dean quirked a smile at her and then returned his attention to his brother.

He helped Sam slide out of the booth and then encouraged him to lean on him as he led him out of the diner. Getting him across the busy road was a little more challenging but they made it and by the time they reached the room, Sam seemed close to passing out.

Dean manhandled him into the room and let him collapse onto the bed. Sam moaned and shivered, reaching out for Dean.

“What do you need, Sam?” he said softly. Sam’s face twitched and his eyes flickered open.

He swallowed hard and then looked away. “Fuck me.”

* * *

“Fuck me,” he said, unable to look at Dean any longer. He didn’t know if he wanted it this way, or if he wanted the wild, sensuous passion that had characterized their first time. But he didn’t dare ask for that, fear that Dean would say no warred with the fear he would say yes and Sam was too conflicted to know what he really wanted. This was better, safer. There was a chance they could both walk away from this with only minimal damage.

“Right,” Dean said, his voice cracking. Sam unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them over his hips before rolling over and burying his head in the pillow. He heard a soft click and then he felt one of Dean’s fingers sliding down his crack, slick with something that smelled vaguely herbal. Some sort of lube? 

Dean worked his body with almost mechanical movements, saying nothing as he carefully worked two and then three fingers inside him. After a few moments, he had Sam gasping and groaning, the pleasure of the feel of Dean’s clever fingers pushing away his shame and misery. Dean gently withdrew his hand and he whimpered. There was the sound of Dean’s zipper, and then the bed dipped as he moved behind Sam.

“This might be easier if you’re on your knees,” he said gruffly.

Sam obeyed, moving into position and held his breath. He only exhaled as he felt Dean’s cock begin to breach that outer wall. “Oh, God, Dean,” he choked out.

“Shh,” Dean said, stroking his back with a gentle swirling motion. “Just relax.”

He tried, but the strangeness of this whole experience was making him tense. Last time, he’d been too swamped with desire and lust to cognitively process what was happening. This was happening much faster and without all the build-up, he just couldn’t switch off his brain.

One of Dean’s hands smoothed over his hip and then across his stomach dipping lower until he encircled Sam’s erection and stroked it, slow and easy. Arousal flared and burned, Sam’s eyes almost rolling back in his skull as the need began to build and his misgivings faded. Dean pushed forward and this time Sam’s body welcomed him in. 

“There we go,” Dean said. He didn’t stop touching Sam, instead, he picked up the pace to match with his thrusts in and out of Sam’s body. It wasn’t nearly as meaningless and detached as he’d asked for and he had to admit he was glad. Dean was murmuring something, too indistinct to hear the words, but Sam kept catching his name which told him that Dean wasn’t pretending he was someone else. That thought was both comforting and arousing, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Dean’s rhythm had become a little ragged. He leaned forward and gasped “Do you want me to pull out?”

Surprised, Sam shook his head. “No,” he gasped. “I want you to come inside me.”

Dean groaned, missing his stroke. “Sammy,” he breathed and Sam felt it as he climaxed, the heat and the throbbing of Dean’s cock sending sparks of sensation up his spine. Dean’s hand tightened reflexively on Sam, and Sam screamed Dean’s name as he came.

After a few moments, his brother moved to his side and rearranged Sam’s body so that Dean was spooned up behind him. 

_ So much for the impersonal fuck _ , Sam thought dizzily. He shifted and Dean patted his hip. 

“Sleep,” he commanded. So Sam slept.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean awoke slowly and only gradually became aware that he was alone in bed and he really shouldn’t be. He sat up and looked around the room in concern, before relaxing when he heard the sound of the shower running. He grimaced at himself, sniffing under his armpit and choking at the stink. For a brief second, he entertained the idea of joining Sam in the shower, but that was against the spirit of their agreement and spoke to a desire to make more of this temporary situation than he had any right to.

He’d already almost blown it, having to literally bite his tongue when Sam cried out his name when he crested. He’d been almost overwhelmed with the need to tell Sam he loved him. His head throbbed as he thought about it.  _ Christ, he was so fucked up. If Sam was the one who was cursed, why was he the one who was suffering? He’d never had a single sexual thought about his brother his entire life until yesterday. It didn’t make sense, and it didn’t fit with the side effects of the curse as Rowena had described it. _

The bathroom door opened and Sam appeared, wet and dripping, with a towel slung low across his hips. Dean had seen him that way a million times and never had it made his mouth go dry and his brain freeze up.

“Shower’s free if you want it,” Sam said with studied casualness. Dean nodded gratefully and got up. Sam had turned away to dig through his bag for clean clothes, so Dean just grabbed his robe and locked himself in the bathroom before the urge to throw his brother onto the bed and ravish him got too strong to resist.

He turned on the shower and his brow crinkled as he saw a small spatter of what looked like jism, high up on the tiled wall at shoulder height. Before he could think about what he was doing, he dipped a finger in and tasted it, half expecting it to be shampoo instead. But the flavor that burst across his tongue was unmistakable.  _ How on earth had Sam managed to get it up there while washing?  _ He wondered about it for a moment before the answer struck him. Sam had jerked off in here and had missed this little spot when rinsing off.  _ Had he been thinking about Dean when he’d come? _ Dean shivered with arousal and then clenched his fists as it was followed by a flood of shame. He stared at that little blob, temptation making him breathless, before turning the shower head and washing it away. 

He hung onto that resolve to be stronger for all of three minutes before giving in and taking himself in hand. Images of Sam here in this shower, masturbating and whispering his name as he came was enough to bring him to a quick and shattering climax.  _ His third today and he wasn’t exactly nineteen anymore. He shouldn’t have wasted one on himself, not when Sam needed him.  _ He hoped he was going to be up to the job ahead.

* * *

Sam dressed quickly, trying not to listen to the sounds Dean was making in the shower. Because if he listened to the sounds, he’d start imagining Dean in there, wet and naked and-- He kicked his duffel bag in fury and growled. Casting an eye around the room, his gaze fell on Dean’s bed, a mess of rumpled sheets and spilled body fluids. The smell was making him feel ill.

He opened the door and went out, closing it behind him. The air was chilly and it made him shiver, but despite the cold, it felt cleansing and calming. He lazily looked at the cars in the lot, at this time of year he wouldn’t have expected so many visitors. He began to meander among the vehicles, noticing odd details like a slight dent here or a discolored patch there. He didn’t know how long he was out there, just letting his mind wander, so when Dean came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, he jumped in surprise. The sun had begun to set and he hadn’t even noticed. 

“You all right?” Dean asked. There was a softness around his eyes and mouth that made Sam’s breath catch behind his teeth. He wanted to reach out and touch those pink lips to his, but he resisted the urge and nodded, letting Dean steer him back indoors. 

He noticed with a rush of affection that Dean had stripped the filthy sheets and somehow replaced them with clean ones.  _ How had he pulled that off? _ He gave his brother a confused look.

“I stopped by the front desk, asked for fresh linens and towels,” Dean explained. Sam smiled at him, almost blinded by the love he felt for his brother in that moment. His eyes watered and he ducked his head. Dean patted him on the shoulder and then squeezed.

“You wanna go out to eat?” he asked. “Or we could get carry-out.”

“I’m not sure I can cope with other people tonight,” Sam admitted.

Dean grinned at him and nudged him with his shoulder. “Pizza it is then.”

* * *

A lazy dinner of pizza, washed down with a couple of beers had Dean feeling almost relaxed. Sam had been chatty and laughed easily at his brother’s dumb jokes, almost as if nothing was wrong. If there was a slight tightness around Sam’s eyes, he tried not to notice it. He did notice when Sam started yawning and his conversation trailed off.

“Time for bed,” Dean announced and turned off the TV, tossing the remote onto the dresser and unbuttoning his jeans. Sam’s sharp intake of breath made him pause. His brother’s eyes were fixated on his hands and his face was pale. He was afraid, and that cut Dean deeper than even an angel blade could. So the words that came out of Sam’s mouth were completely unexpected.

“Sleep with me,” he said.

Dean gaped at him, utterly dumbfounded. He tried to puzzle out exactly what Sam meant, but his brother was giving off a riot of conflicting signals. “I don’t…”

“I don’t mean sex,” Sam interjected quickly, a look of alarm rippling across his face followed quickly by chagrin. “Uh, OK, actually I do, but not right now.”

Dean couldn’t speak, he couldn’t even move if his life depended on it. His hands started shaking and icy needles of terror were slicing into his spine.  _ Sam wanted…  _ His brain short-circuited.

When he’d been silent for too long, Sam began to fold in on himself. “Never mind,” he said brokenly, curling into a fetal position. 

Sam’s evident pain at what he was interpreting as Dean’s rejection managed to override his shock. “No, Sam. It’s OK. I was just… surprised.” His hands were still quivering and he clenched them into fists. “Tell me what you need.”

Sam unfurled slowly and shuffled over in his bed, lifting the covers in invitation. Without hesitation, Dean walked over to climb in beside him and Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“You’re still wearing your jeans,” his brother pointed out.

And so he was. “I thought…” He shook his head and shucked them before his mouth got him into trouble. 

Sliding between the cool sheets, he carefully maintained sufficient distance from Sam so that he wouldn’t feel crowded. Not easy when his brother was a giant. They hadn’t shared a bed like this since they were boys and it felt strange.

He rolled onto his side to see Sam looking back at him, his head propped up on his hand. “How are you feeling?”

Sam gave a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t wanna know.”

Dean wanted to reach out and smooth out the furrows on his brother’s brow. His fingers twitched but he repressed the desire. “I do, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, and then wordlessly shifted closer. Dean raised his arm unsteadily and Sam accepted the invitation, snuggling against his side and tangling their legs together.  _ Like lovers, _ Dean thought crazily.

He turned his head to see Sam looking up at him through his lashes and almost choked when his brother’s tongue slipped out to moisten his lips. Hesitantly, he dipped his head and placed a light, if not altogether chaste kiss on Sam’s mouth. But he couldn’t stop at just one and it seemed Sam was just as eager, slanting his head and pulling Dean closer for a deeper kiss that sent pulses of arousal straight to his groin.  _ What was he doing? _ He pulled away and stared at Sam, uncertainty and desire swirling inside.

He was reminded uncomfortably of how Sam had been when the curse had first started to bite. This was similar but not quite the same, Sam was pliant and wanton and definitely aroused. Dean’s ardor cooled, he didn’t dare risk Sam awakening as he had that morning, confused and with no memory of what had happened to him. He’d violated that trust once, even if he hadn’t meant to and he wouldn’t do so again.

Sam seemed oblivious to his inner turmoil, his eyes were bright and wicked and his tongue swept over his bottom lip as he gazed back at Dean. He tugged at Dean’s t-shirt, trying to coax him into another kiss and Dean resisted. The pout was back and it took every ounce of will Dean had not to throw his scruples out the window.

“I know you want this,” Sam said huskily. “Why do you insist on denying yourself?”

“Because you’re not yourself,” Dean croaked. “This isn’t you, this isn’t what you want, it’s that goddamn spell. We agreed I would give you what you need, to make sure you survive until tomorrow. But just the bare minimum, not like this.”

“You’re wrong,” Sam breathed, a smile hovering around his lips. “This is what I need right now.” And he pulled Dean in, crushing their mouths together. Dean opened beneath his brother’s onslaught, momentarily overwhelmed by his own tangled desires and Sam purred with victory. He rolled Dean onto his back and pinned his hands above his head, straddling his hips and grinning madly at him.

Sam was naked from the waist down. Dean didn’t know when his brother had discarded his underwear but matters were rapidly spinning out of his control. He struggled against Sam’s hold but his brother’s upper body strength had always been greater than his. And he knew all the same hand-to-hand fighting tricks. Dread began to replace desire as he realized he might not have any choice where this ended up. Sam was out of his mind and Dean wasn’t sure he had the fortitude to hurt his brother rather than let him have his way.

Sam was now holding Dean’s wrists in one hand, the other had drifted south and was teasing at the waistband of his shorts. Then his hand dipped inside and he grasped Dean’s shaft and pushing the material out of the way, brought it to his lips. He swirled his tongue around the head.

“Tell me you want me,” he said, low and sensual. Dean’s cock twitched in his hand and Sam smiled. “With your mouth,” he added.

Dean was lost, seduced, and as Sam loosened his grip on his wrists, allowing him to move once more, any apprehension melted away. 

“I want you,” he said in a rough voice.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam’s whole world was a marvelous kaleidoscope of lust and arousal focused solely on Dean. The scent of his brother’s skin filled his nostrils, the taste of his brother’s mouth across his tongue and the feel of Dean’s skin, hot with a passion that matched his own and slick with sweat and need. He was almost aching with desire and he was sure that Dean felt the same.

He felt a flicker of annoyance when his brother refused him. _Why was he being so stubborn?_ He considered whether Dean was offering up some kind of token resistance to salve his conscience over committing the sin of incest. He smiled as the thought formed. Maybe his brother needed to feel like he had no other choice. The idea of holding Dean down while they fucked made him even hotter and he easily overpowered his brother and pinned his arms above his head.

Dean didn’t seem too enthused, however, and he thrashed against Sam’s grip. But Sam was convinced he just needed to bring his brother round to his way of thinking. He was amused by the idea of turning the tables on Dean, just this once. _Oh, in the end, he’d be the one getting fucked, it had to be that way, but he really wanted to feel what it would be like to be balls deep inside Dean._ He slipped his hand into his brother’s shorts, and wrapped his hand around his brother’s glorious, rigid erection, taking time to taste it.

“Tell me you want me,” he demanded and finally, Dean stopped fighting him and gave in.  __Sam gave up on the idea of trying to get Dean to bottom this time. He was too needy and something about this curse demanded that he be the on the receiving end.

“I want you,” he said, his voice thick with arousal.

Sam sat up to discard his t-shirt and he watched with hungry eyes as Dean followed suit. He peeled Dean’s shorts off and then slowly, teasingly, licked and nibbled at his erection until Dean was panting and writhing beneath him.

He met his brother’s half-lidded gaze. “How do you want me?”

Dean swallowed and wet his lips. “On your back,” he said.

Sam moved aside and rolled over, spreading his legs wide. Dean knelt between them, pushing his knees up and taking Sam into his mouth, a move so surprising Sam almost climaxed there and then. He gritted his teeth as he beat back his arousal, even as Dean seemed to be doing his best to drag him over the edge.

“Dean!” he gasped.

Dean relented, sitting back on his heels and producing a tube of lube from who knew where. He took his time slicking up his fingers before pushing them into Sam’s body. Sam arched his back as Dean stroked his prostate and gave a cry as he came. _Too soon, too soon._

Dean let him come down and then began to work him back up again. It didn’t seem possible but somehow he managed to bring Sam right back to the brink before removing his hand. And then he lined his cock up with Sam’s entrance and surged forward, pumping his hips with a driving rhythm as he captured Sam’s mouth. His hands twisted in Sam’s hair and he used it to pull Sam’s head to one side and trailed kisses along his jaw before sinking his teeth into Sam’s neck.

That should have hurt, and it kinda did but it was also really hot and Sam was now utterly at Dean’s mercy. His brother set a punishing pace, the bed beneath them squeaking and rocking as he pounded into Sam, over and over again. Sam’s vision whited out as he peaked and he was only vaguely aware of Dean yelling his name as he came.

* * *

Dean rested his head on Sam’s shoulder, exhaustion flowing through him as he gasped for breath. He lifted his head to see Sam’s face in repose, eyes closed and mouth slightly open.

“Love you, Sam,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to his brother’s neck. And then he carefully lifted himself off Sam’s body and staggered to the bathroom.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror as he cleaned up and it almost brought him to his knees. He’d seen that look on his face before, that blissed-out post-coital haze. But it should never have been his brother who put it there. He leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He couldn’t do this again. It would destroy him.

Filling a glass with water and guzzling it down, he took a deep breath and returned to the bedroom. Sam smiled lazily at him, which only increased his misery, and then rolled off the bed and headed into the bathroom. Dean pulled on his clothes and sat down at the table, pinching the bridge of his nose to fend off an incipient headache.

He heard the shower run and that’s when he broke down, tears cascading down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. Leaning his forehead on his arm, he let himself weep while the sounds from the bathroom covered the sound of his grief. _How was he ever going to recover once this was all over?_ If Rowena was as good as her word and rid Sam of this curse, their relationship was going to be destroyed. All the years he’d fought for Sam, even going to Hell to save his brother’s life, and now he was going to be left with nothing.

The last time he’d felt this desolate and dead inside, he’d almost handed himself over to the Archangel Michael. Now, he had no answer to the yawning gulf of despair that faced him.

* * *

Sam detangled the last few knots in his hair and then looked at himself in the mirror. He’d had sex with Dean three times now, a thought that made his head spin. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring and it left a hollow feeling in his stomach. They’d gone too far. He knew it and he suspected Dean knew it too.

They should have stuck to the agreement. It was Sam’s fault that they hadn’t, he’d craved something more than a perfunctory fuck to scratch an itch and had done everything he could to seduce Dean. It scarcely seemed possible but now that he’d tasted the forbidden fruit of taking his brother as his lover, he didn’t think he could go back to how it was before.

“It’s just the spell talking,” he told himself. He didn’t believe it.

He left the bathroom to see Dean, fully dressed and pulling on his boots. His brother’s face was pale and his eyes were red. _Had Dean been crying?_ His stomach flipped. He’d done that.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light and easy.

“I’m too wired to sleep,” Dean said. “I’m gonna go for a drive.”

“OK,” Sam said. It was clear from Dean’s voice that he did not want company. “Don’t be gone too long, yeah?” He didn’t want to say that he might need Dean, that he might have another attack from the spell.

“I won’t,” Dean promised. “And… if you need me, call, OK?” He got up and left, letting the door slam behind him.

Sam looked at his bed and sighed. Sleep didn’t seem to be on the cards for now. There was a fourth of whiskey left so he did something he rarely did, swigging directly from the bottle. He shuddered as the cheap liquor burned his throat and coughed. But he didn’t stop drinking until he’d drained the bottle.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t nearly enough to get him drunk. His tolerance wasn’t as high as Dean’s but he wasn’t a lightweight either. He thought about heading out to a bar but it was late and without a car, there weren’t many options. Finally, he flung himself onto the bed and tried to will himself to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean cracked the motel room door open quietly, peering into the darkened room. He could see the outline of Sam’s body on his bed and hear the soft, regular sounds of his breathing. He’d driven around aimlessly for about an hour before worry about his brother made him head back. 

He closed the door and toed off his boots and stripped down to his t-shirt and shorts. He stood next to Sam’s bed, trying to resist the urge to crawl in next to his brother and tuck his body in behind Sam’s. To his chagrin, Sam rolled over and opened his eyes. He didn’t speak, he just held Dean’s gaze for a moment and then shifted over to make more room, the invitation to join him implicit.

He shouldn’t. He should climb into his own bed and stop being so weak. And then he noticed the empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand, faintly illuminated by the red glow from the alarm clock. That settled the matter in his mind. Sam was suffering, and it was his job to provide comfort. No matter what the cost. He slid his body under the covers and curled up behind Sam, draping one arm over his brother’s stomach. Sam made a contented sound and despite everything, Dean took some measure of solace in that.

* * *

Sam started awake, sweat pouring off him and his heart pounding. It was still dark and he was lying on his back, Dean lying cradled in his arms and their legs entwined. 

“Sam?” his brother muttered into his chest. “You OK?”

“Hot,” Sam said, feeling like every breath was a struggle. “Can’t breathe.”

“OK, Sam, don’t panic,” Dean said, sounding more awake. He kicked off the covers and stripped Sam out of his clothes with ruthless efficiency. He rolled Sam onto his side and pressed up behind him, shuffling his shorts down over his hips. Sam groaned at the feeling of Dean’s cock pressed against his cleft. Fingers slick with something slithered over his entrance and he huffed out a breath as his body responded. 

Dean worked quickly, stretching him open and then gently eased his shaft into Sam’s body, rocking back and forth with a slow, easy rhythm that was almost unbearably sensual. Sam tilted his head back, hoping to claim a quick kiss, but Dean’s head was in the wrong position and he couldn’t reach. The odd angle was working almost too well, dragging the head of Dean’s cock over Sam’s prostate and even without Dean touching him, he knew he’d be coming soon. Dean’s hand reached around to provide some extra stimulation and he whimpered and strained towards his peak. 

Dean was strangely silent, all Sam could hear was the occasional grunt or rasp of breath as he moved and as he climaxed, he groaned into Sam’s shoulder. Sam sobbed out Dean’s name as he crested, tears running down his cheeks. Dean had been so remote and it was tearing him apart.

Dean got up while he was still shivering through the aftershocks and went into the bathroom, reemerging a few seconds later with a wet facecloth and a towel. “Bathroom’s all yours,” he said.

“Dean--”

His brother waved him off, rubbing the washcloth over his groin and pointedly ignoring Sam. Swallowing down his pain, Sam entered the bathroom and turned on the shower, stepping immediately under the icy spray. He shivered through a short, cold shower and spent the minimum amount of time toweling off before returning to the bedroom. Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands dangling over his knees and his head bowed.

Sam didn’t know what to say. He shuffled back to bed and slowly climbed in. Dean’s head lifted and he met Sam’s gaze. His eyes were bloodshot and his face looked older somehow. At a loss, Sam took the risk of further heartbreak and made sure there was room for Dean to slide in behind him. He closed his eyes and waited with bated breath until he heard the springs on Dean’s bed creak as he stood, the lamp clicked off. Then his brother was there, spooning up behind him once more and his heart broke anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

They both rose with the sunrise, and packed quickly, ready to hit the road. Normally, this would be the time Dean would suggest stopping off for breakfast but not today. The idea of food made him feel sick.

“How far is it to Horseshoe Lake?” Sam asked. Dean thought it was more to start a conversation than any real curiosity since he could easily have looked it up on his phone.

“Eight hours, depending on traffic,” Dean said after a quick calculation in his head.

“We could have left yesterday,” Sam pointed out.

Dean shook his head. “You were in no state to travel.”

Sam made a face at him and for a moment Dean thought he might argue, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He hefted his duffel bag onto his shoulder and grabbed the car keys off the dresser as he went out the door. Dean followed him and dumped his bag into the trunk after Sam’s and then held his hand out for the keys. Sam grumbled at him but handed them over and he climbed into the passenger seat and closed his eyes. It was going to be a long drive.

Sam must have been really tired since he slipped easily into sleep and there was a tight feeling in Dean’s chest whenever he looked over at his brother to see the peaceful look on his face. He was doing that too often, he was aware, like he was saving up these glances to sustain him. Like he’d already accepted that after this he’d never see Sam again.

That thought made him feel a little breathless, and he wished he could turn on the radio and drown out the noise in his head. But he didn’t want to disturb Sam. So he drove and marinated in his sorrow, the thoughts in his head getting darker and darker.

Sam began to shift and fidget after an hour, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Dean frowned, counting back to the last time Sam had an attack, in the early morning hours. The attacks were coming more frequently and it worried him. 

Spotting a small roadside diner, he pulled into the parking lot and shook Sam gently to wake him. “Sammy?”

“Where are we?” Sam said blurrily. He looked around. “Oh. Are you hungry?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “But I thought you might be.” He gave Sam a significant look and his brother touched his forehead with the back of his hand. His expression became pained. 

“Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “What’s the plan?” 

“Go order some coffee to go. I’ll meet you in the restroom,” Dean told him. It felt sleazy and cheap and it was the last thing he wanted to do to Sam, but on the road there weren’t many options. Sam nodded and climbed out of the car, feet dragging as he slouched towards the diner. Dean gave him a few minutes before heading in the other door and slipping into the men’s room.

He waited, leaning over the sink and wondering what the Hell he was doing. Sam deserved better than this. Then the door opened and Sam came in, staggering and panting. He lurched forwards and brought his mouth slamming down on Dean’s, desperate and hungry. Dean tore his mouth free and shoved Sam into a stall, slamming the door behind them. Sam closed the lid of the toilet and dropped his jeans, sinking to his knees and leaning on the seat. Dean pulled the lube out of his pocket and roughly jammed his fingers into Sam’s hole, knowing that they didn’t have much time.

Sam didn’t seem to mind. He pushed back against Dean’s hand making a keening sound, and that was enough to convince Dean he was ready. He opened his pants and pulled out his cock, thrusting it into Sam’s body, grunting as he pumped his hips as quickly as he could. He just needed to get this over and done with. Sam fisted his own cock, apparently on the same page and in just a few minutes he came, silently biting his sleeve to keep the noise down. As Sam’s passage clenched around Dean’s shaft, he huffed out a breath and gritted his teeth as he climaxed. As soon as he was finished, he hastily cleaned up with bathroom tissue, turned and left without saying another word. 

* * *

Sam leaned against the wall of the stall, his chest heaving as he struggled to contain the urge to weep. Every time he and Dean came together now, it felt more and more like his brother was trying to distance himself from the act. Of course, Sam understood that this whole escapade was probably torture for Dean. He wondered briefly who Dean must be imagining when they had sex since he couldn’t possibly really want Sam. He hated that person, whoever they were.

But he couldn’t hang out in a diner bathroom all day, so he headed back to the counter to pick up the coffee and returned to the car. Dean was leaning against the hood, his face a mask. He accepted his drink with a nod of his head and supped it contemplatively.

“It’s not far now,” he said, his tone cool. “Maybe two, three hours.”

Sam was supposed to feel relief, that this nightmare would soon be over. Somehow he thought that in fact the nightmare would begin once the curse was gone. His throat clogged so instead of responding, he climbed back in the car and leaned his head against the glass of the window. Dean got in beside him and laid a hand on his arm.

“It’s almost over,” he said reassuringly.  Then he started the engine and pulled away.


	12. Chapter 12

_Now_

 

_That really was the last time,_ Sam thought desolately. A quick, hard fuck on the hood of the Impala, no love, no affection not even any sense of real desire. Dean had done his duty. Nothing more. Which was how it should be of course, but Sam had realized long ago that whatever this curse had unearthed deep in his psyche would not be so easily dismissed. He was almost hoping Rowena would double-cross them, even if it meant his death. Because the alternative was to keep on living but be dead inside.

 

As soon as Dean brought the car to a halt, on the shore of Horseshoe Lake, Sam tumbled out and bolted for the water’s edge. Falling to his knees, he stared miserably into the water. His stomach roiled and his throat was tight. Pain throbbed behind his eyes and he shuddered, desperately fighting the urge to weep.

 

“Samuel,” Rowena’s familiar Scottish brogue greeted him. Sam looked up, no doubt she was enjoying this.  _God, he hated her._  “Dean.”

 

“Rowena,” Dean growled. His brother's disdain for the witch was clearly warring with the fact that she was doing them a favor. 

 

“Well, now that we’re all here, we can begin,” she said brightly, rubbing her hands together. “Samuel? I need you to come over here.”

 

Sam dragged himself to his feet and lurched over to stand in front of her. Now he was closer, he revised his opinion of her mood. It almost seemed like sympathy shimmered in those stormy eyes. She handed him a small, silver flask, ornately engraved with an R.

 

“What’s this?” he asked.

 

She laughed. “Single malt whiskey. The good stuff. No potions, I promise, but I thought you might need some Dutch courage.” He was right then, she did feel sorry for him. Which was disconcerting enough in itself, but there was a shadow of pain behind her eyes. Had she been through something like this herself? He was afraid to ask. He stared at her and she blinked innocently back at him so he took a gulp and handed the flask to Dean. The whiskey was smooth, smoky and rich and he had to admit the witch had good taste.

 

“Now,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and eying him with an arched brow. “You’ll need to disrobe.” Sam glared at her but began to remove his clothing. “You too, Dean,” she said imperiously, waving one hand at him. 

 

Dean took one final swig from the flask and handed it back to her, his face murderous. But he didn't object, just muttered under his breath and Sam turned away, unable to watch. He heard the jingle of his brother's belt buckle, a sound that had begun to produce an almost Pavlovian response in him. Gritting his teeth, he shimmied out of his jeans and stood in the moonlight in just his shorts.

 

“You have to be skyclad, my dear,” Rowena said, sounding like she was barely suppressing a laugh.

 

Sam growled at her but removed his underwear and stood there, buck naked. She walked around him, making a humming sound under her breath and trailing icy fingertips over his skin. Then she turned him around and pushed him towards the water. Sam walked to the water’s edge and stopped.

 

“Get in,” she said impatiently. “At least waist deep.”

 

Sam breathed in and out, bracing himself. The water was going to be freezing and he did not want to wade in there. But what choice did he have? He decided against putting in a testing toe and instead waded out into the water, biting his lip against the icy feel of it swirling around his legs. Behind him, he could hear Dean splashing and swearing and when Sam finally decided he was deep enough he turned around. Dean was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

 

“You need to make physical contact,” Rowena called out. “Holding hands is fine but you boys look so cold you might want to consider hugging.”

 

“I am not cuddling you, dude,” Dean said immediately. “So don’t even ask.”

 

His breath caught in his throat, Sam offered his brother his hand. Dean hesitated and then grasped it firmly. Rowena was chanting in a language Sam didn’t recognize. There was a distant roaring sound which made him look around and to his astonishment, he saw an enormous wave heading right for them. He tugged at Dean’s hand to pull him out of the way, back towards shore, but Dean was riveted to the spot. No matter what Sam tried, he couldn’t get his brother to move or even make any sign that he could hear Sam yelling at him.

 

It was too late, the wave had reached them and crashed down over their heads. Sam fought against the surging currents and desperately tried to keep their heads above water but the force swept him off his feet and he plunged under the frigid surface.

 

He’d read once that drowning was a peaceful way to die. It was a lie. As his lungs burned with the urge to breathe, Sam began to panic. He thrashed around looking for purchase, for Dean, for any sign of the surface of the water. Finally, he could resist no more and took in his first inhalation of near freezing water and everything went black.

 

*

 

No matter where he ended up after he’d died, whether it was Heaven, Hell, the Empty or somewhere else, Sam had never imagined it would be so cold. Or uncomfortable. He felt like he was lying face down on a pile of rocks.

 

“Sam?” a gruff voice said. Dean was here too? Had they both died? He should feel worse about that than he did.

 

“Where are we?” Sam asked faintly. He wanted to move but every muscle was screaming in agony. And the more he shivered the worse the pain got. He didn’t know what was happening and it was beginning to scare him.

 

“On the lakeshore,” Dean said. _The lake…_ so Rowena had worked her magic and drowned them both in the process. Or maybe only nearly drowned.

 

“I’m not dead?” Sam asked plaintively.

 

“No,” Dean told him. His voice sounded peculiar like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Despair washed over him, colder than the lake had been. He’d been half-hoping he was dead, he realized and now he knew he was alive, he was _disappointed._

 

“What happened?”

 

“What do you remember?” Dean deflected.  _Shit._ If Dean wasn't being straight with him, it had to be bad news. Maybe that meant the curse hadn't been cured. Something suspiciously like hope bubbled in his chest.

 

“Not much.” Sam coughed and vomited up filthy lake water, just missing Dean’s boots. “There was a big wave and then I blacked out.”

 

“Nothing after that?” Dean pressed. Sam couldn’t understand why he sounded so tense.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Rowena!” Dean yelled. “He doesn’t remember anything.” His brother squatted down and coaxed Sam onto his side, into some semblance of the recovery position to prevent him from choking. His hands were gentle, soothing.

 

“I never said he would, I said he _might,”_ the witch said loftily, the stony ground crunching as she moved closer. “He’s alive, the curse is gone. What more do you want?”   


“I want to know what Billie did to him,” Dean snapped.

 

Rowena made a frustrated sound. “What does it matter? Reapers have their own agenda. I learned long ago not to get in their way.” Sam opened his eyes to see the witch standing there and she looked almost shell-shocked. Rowena didn’t scare easily and she was good at hiding it when she was afraid. Whatever had happened after he lost consciousness had terrified her, and that was not a comforting thought.

 

“Dean,” he said in a raspy voice.

 

“Come on,” his brother said, turning his attention back to Sam. “We need to get warm and cleaned up. Rowena… Son of a bitch! Where did she go?”

 

Sam didn’t care. He just wanted to get away from this place. “Help me up.”

 

Dean put his arms around his neck and somehow hauled him to his feet. His face was very close to Sam’s, so close their noses were almost touching. Water clung to Dean’s lashes and beaded on his skin. The temptation to kiss him was so strong, Sam couldn’t resist it. He tilted his head and leaned forward… to meet empty air. Dean had ducked out of the way and was now disengaging himself as quickly as he could.

 

“Easy, Sam,” Dean said, as though all Sam had done was lose his balance a little. “Come on.” Sam let Dean steer him towards the car, stumbling occasionally on a loose rock. But every time, Dean was there to catch him.

 

“Are we going to check into the hotel?” Sam asked, stuttering because he was so cold.

 

Dean grimaced unhappily. “It’s kinda fancy and expensive.” He took in Sam’s bedraggled appearance. “All right. I don’t know if there’s another motel for miles and we’re both frozen." Sam just nodded and climbed into the car. He shivered through the short drive to the hotel and followed Dean mutely to the check-in desk. He watched Dean as he filled out the registration card. The clerk said something to Dean that made him scowl, but he nodded and handed the card over. The clerk gave him two electronic keycards in a small card wallet and pointed to the elevators.

 

Once inside the room, the reason for Dean’s irritation became clear, in the shape of an enormous king-sized bed. _One bed. Fuck._ Sam jerked in surprise as Dean walked up to him and began to efficiently strip him out of his clothing.

 

“What are you doing?” he protested feebly, batting his brother's hands away.

 

“You need to get warm, and everything you’re wearing is soaking. Let’s get you in the shower.” Dean shoved him towards the bathroom and Sam let his brother boss him around for now. He was too tired and wrung-out to argue. The shower was a large cubicle lined with slate tiles and could probably easily accommodate at least two people.

 

Once he’d thrust Sam under the hot spray, Dean quickly shucked his wet clothes too and to his astonishment, opened the glass door and joined Sam in the shower. Sam was confused and he still didn’t know what had happened at the lake. Was he free of the curse or not? If he was, why was Dean in here with him? If not, why had they let Rowena leave?

 

“Dean--”

 

“Later,” his brother grunted. He washed Sam’s hair, something he hadn’t done since they were kids, then scrubbed him thoroughly only avoiding his genitals and his ass. He handed the soap to Sam and made a head bob that Sam assumed meant he was going to have to wash those parts himself. He began to soap himself up and Dean began washing his own hair. He’d been afraid that being in the heat of the shower, naked, Dean touching him, would be arousing. But he felt strangely hollow inside. Dean was sending him such mixed messages, Sam didn’t know what to think.

 

Once they were clean, Dean guided Sam out of the shower like he was an invalid and wrapped him in towels from head to toe. Sam laughed an odd, broken sound, and took over, wrapping his head in one towel and using another to dry his body. His brother offered him a fluffy bathrobe and Sam wrapped it around himself. Dean’s robe reached his knees, his hit about mid-thigh, barely covering his modesty. Dean quirked an amused eyebrow at him but didn’t comment.

 

Now he was finally warm and clean, Sam felt exhaustion wash over him. He shuffled over to the bed and collapsed onto it face down. The bed dipped as Dean sat on the opposite side. Sam didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to sleep. But bizarrely, Dean had other ideas.

 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his voice gentle. Sam's throat hurt at the tenderness he was being showered with. 

 

“Uh, yeah, I guess I am,” he said, his stomach rumbling with amazing timing. Maybe some food would pick him up a little.

 

“I’ll order room service,” Dean said. He felt the bed shift as his brother leaned over to snag something from the nightstand. “The menu’s kinda limited,” he commented and then hissed through his teeth. “And expensive.”

 

“It’s OK,” Sam said. “Forget it.” They were short on funds, Sam's affliction had been expensive in more ways than one, and it was stupid to waste it on overpriced hotel food.

 

“No,” Dean said firmly. “You’re in shock and you need to eat. So do I. And there’s nothing for miles around here. We’ll just have to hustle a few more pool tables this month.”

 

“OK,” Sam said, too tired to argue. And honestly, having Dean fuss over him like this was nice, although he would deny it if anyone asked.

 

“You’re not ordering a salad, you need something hot. Cheeseburger, club sandwich, chicken fo… foc… uh sandwich, falafel sandwich. Uh, comes with french fries or sweet potato fries.”

 

Sam had no desire to eat a salad anyway. “Club sandwich. And regular french fries.”

 

Dean picked up the phone and ordered Sam’s sandwich and a cheeseburger for himself. “Uh, yeah and four beers. Domestic, whatever you’ve got.” He hung up. “They said twenty minutes.”

 

Sam nodded and moved his arms to prop up his head. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

 

Dean inhaled and exhaled. “Yeah. After Rowena half drowned us, I dragged your carcass onto the beach. You uh… you weren’t breathing. And…” He made a hiccuping sound. “Billie showed up.”


	13. Chapter 13

Dean collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving. “You could have mentioned you were planning to drown us,” he gasped. “Sam? Shit, he’s not breathing.” He rolled Sam onto his stomach and began to press on his back to force the water out of his lungs. “Don’t just stand there,” he barked. “Do something!”

 

“I can’t,” Rowena said, not unkindly. “This is part of the process and I can’t interfere.”

 

“What? OK, whatever.” Dean turned Sam over again and began CPR, pumping Sam’s chest and forcing air into his lungs, a silent prayer repeating over and over in his head.  _ Please, Sam. Breathe. Please, breathe. _

 

There was a crunch of gravel and Rowena made a surprised sound. Dean glanced up, unwilling to stop breathing for his brother for long. His heart sank when he saw the familiar form of the reaper, Billie.  _ Fuck. _

 

“You can’t have him!” Dean growled between breaths. Billie tossed her head in dismissal and walked over to Rowena. She seemed to be talking to the witch but Dean couldn’t concentrate on that, he had to keep his focus on Sam. However, it was clear that Rowena was intimidated. Maybe even afraid.

 

“You’re lucky you have interesting friends,” Billie said, her voice louder suddenly and Dean started when he realized she’d come over to stand beside him. “It’s not Sam’s time anyway.” She made a flicking gesture with her fingers and Sam began to cough and choke. More lake water vomited out of his mouth.

 

“Sam,” she said and Sam’s face went blank. His eyes were open but unfocused and cloudy. “Dicere.”

 

“ _In tenebris est,_ ” Sam said hollowly. “ _Mors illius nascentur contentiones cum servo cadit._ ” There was a strange echoing quality to his voice. 

 

“What the Hell are you doing to him?” Dean demanded. Billie glared at him and he found himself unable to speak. He tried desperately to force some sound out of his throat but all he could do was wheeze.

 

“ _Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?_ ” Bille said to Sam. His body was twitching and shivering, but not from the cold as far as Dean could tell. 

 

“ _Et ferrum utraque parte acutam._ ” Sam’s voice was getting hoarser. “ _Quod autem vacui vigilantiam revocare_.”

 

Billie looked astonished at this pronouncement. “ _Et hoc non potest esse!_ ”

 

“ _Quod necesse est esse,_ ” Sam said robotically. And then his eyes drifted closed.

 

“Take care of him,” Billie said, turning on her heel and walking back to Rowena. She muttered something at the witch and then vanished. 

 

“Rowena!” Dean yelled. “What the actual fuck just happened?”

 

The witch’s face was white, her expression strained. “The curse on Sam called on the forces of life and death. To remove it, I had to do the same. I called upon the Parcae, Morta answered.”

 

“Morta?” Dean said, confused. “You mean Billie?”

 

Rowena looked equally puzzled. “Who is Billie?”

 

“The reaper chick who was just here!” Dean snapped. 

 

Rowena shook her head, her red hair swinging in her face. “That was Morta. She’s not a reaper.”

 

Dean didn’t see any point in arguing. “Is Sam cured? Will he remember any of this?”

 

Rowena’s mouth twitched. “The curse has been lifted. Sam might recall what happened if Morta wills it.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

“That’s when you woke up,” Dean’s eyes had shimmered as he related the tale, even though his voice was gruff and his face stony. He’d been scared, Sam realized. Scared of losing him. A lump formed in his throat.

 

But why had Billie shown up? “I don’t understand any of this,” Sam said. “How did a simple curse-lifting get so complicated?” And what exactly had Billie done to him?

 

“We’re just lucky, I guess,” Dean said grumpily. There was a knock at the door and he rolled off the bed, grabbing his handgun in one smooth movement. “Who is it?”

 

“You ordered room service?” a voice said from behind the door. Dean tucked his gun into the small of his back and went to open the door. Sam could hear a brief conversation and then the door closed and Dean reappeared with a tray filled with covered plates and an ice bucket containing four beer bottles.

 

Sam gratefully accepted his plate and lifted the lid to find an enormous sandwich cut into four sections and a pile of fries. He picked up one part of the sandwich, removed the cocktail stick and bit into it hungrily.

 

Dean said something indistinct around a mouthful of burger. He was sitting on the edge of the desk, watching Sam intently. Sam frowned at him. “I said, how do we figure out what you told Billie?”

 

Sam chewed contemplatively. Sooner or later they’d have to talk about the curse itself and what it meant, but for now, he was happy to leave it alone. He didn’t know how he felt about it all anyway. “It sounded like Latin. Are you sure you remember it correctly?”

 

“No,” Dean admitted. “But… I dunno, I can still hear it in my head.” Sam rarely saw Dean genuinely spooked. But this… whatever it was had really disturbed him.

 

“OK,” Sam said. “Start at the beginning. What did Billie say? Dicere?”

 

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

 

“It means speak,” Sam said. “It sounds like a command. Maybe an activation word for a spell? What then?”

 

Dean put down his half-eaten burger and picked at a few fries. “Something about darkness? In the darkness?”

 

“You could translate tenebris as shadow, but given everything that’s going on, darkness makes more sense,” Sam agreed. "Not exactly sure if it means in the darkness or the darkness comes. Could be either."

 

“The next part was ‘Mors illius nascentur contentiones cum servo cadit.’ Mors is death, right?” Dean opened two of the beers and offered one to Sam, who took it and swallowed a large mouthful. “That’s all I got.”

 

Sam wiped his fingers on his robe and looked around the room. “I think we need my computer.” Dean nodded and produced Sam’s bag from the floor. He took out the laptop and placed it on the bed. Sam opened it, connected to the hotel wifi and directed the browser to Google Translate.

 

“OK, get this. ‘Death shall arise when the server fails.’ What does that mean?” He was pretty sure ‘server’ was a mistranslation, but he wasn’t sure what for.

 

Dean shrugged. “No idea. Death is well… dead. Maybe it’s talking about someone taking over from Death?”

 

Sam took another bite of sandwich. “Could be. So what did she say after that?” His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

 

“She said ‘Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?’. Uh, something about janitors?” Dean said, poking at his few remaining fries.

 

Sam laughed harder than the joke warranted and Dean gave him a strange look. “Who watches the watchmen?”

 

“Yeah. I knew that. So you said ‘“Et ferrum utraque parte acutam.’ Ferrum is iron, I think.”

 

“The translator says ‘the blade-edged sword’. That doesn’t make any sense. I think we broke it.” Sam sighed in frustration. “Next?”

 

“‘Quod autem vacui vigilantiam revocare.’” Dean said. The room seemed to vibrate strangely with his voice.

 

“The void will be awoken. Is that about the Empty?” Sam replied. It sounded like an omen. Or a warning.

  
Dean stared openly at him. “What makes you say that?”

 

“I dunno. Billie threatened to throw us into the Empty the next time we died, to stop us coming back.” Sam pushed his plate away, even though he’d barely eaten half of the food on it. His appetite had fled.

 

“It’s a bit thin,” Dean complained. “Anyway, she didn’t seem to like it very much. She said ‘Et hoc non potest esse’ and she sounded… mad. You said ‘Quod necesse est esse’ and that was it.”

 

“She said ‘This can not be’,” Sam read from the screen. “My response was ‘This must be’. So yeah, I’d say she wasn’t too happy about the void thing.” He shivered suddenly like someone had walked over his grave.

 

Dean finished his beer, his expression unsettled. “How are you feeling now? Any lingering effects?”

 

Sam jumped guiltily. Dean said the curse had been lifted, and certainly, he’d not had another round of spiking temperatures. But he’d thought, or hoped, or maybe feared if he was honest, that the sexual dimension the curse had introduced to his relationship with Dean would also be gone. And it definitely was not. Just being in the same room as his brother was beginning to make him antsy and uncomfortable.

 

He realized he’d been silent too long. “I’m OK,” he lied. “Tired.”

 

Dean gave him a long, searching look and then nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s get some sleep and hit the road early tomorrow morning.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

Dean was worried. The curse and the ritual to break it had taken its toll on both of them, Sam especially. His brother seemed brittle, as though he might shatter at the slightest thing. Dean hadn’t seen Sam that way since the day after he’d killed Lilith and freed Lucifer from the Cage. 

 

Not that Dean was doing much better. There was a hard lump in his chest that ached when he swallowed. He was hyperaware of everything Sam did, every tiny movement and facial expression.  _ Sam’s been through a lot. You’re just looking out for him. _ Dean knew deep down that was a lie. They had crossed a line that was never meant to be crossed, and now he had no idea how they went back to how it had been before. 

 

It wasn’t fair. He’d fought so hard for Sam, his brother as necessary to him as air. But now he feared that the end of the road was fast approaching. Sam would want to talk about it, and he desperately wanted to forget. Forget the sweet softness of his brother’s mouth, the incredible tight heat of Sam’s body clenched around his cock. Forget the extraordinary sight and beautiful sounds he made as he climaxed. 

 

He stared out into the darkness of the room, listening to the sound of Sam’s breathing. He needed that sound. Those few minutes on the lake shore when his brother had stopped breathing had been worse than the foulest torments of Hell. What was he going to do, now that Sam was no longer going to be looking at him with desire in his eyes? 

 

He’d tried to push Sam away, to distance himself from what they were doing. He told himself it was for Sam’s benefit as much as his own, but for his part, it hadn’t really worked. He was grieving for the loss of his brother and Sam wasn’t even gone. 

 

He came to a painful realization. Even without realizing it, he’d started planning to leave the bunker. Cas could take care of Sam and maybe after a few years, once the pain had faded, he could drop by from time to time to see how he was doing. A sob bubbled up inside and he forced it down. He had to be strong. For Sam.

 

*

 

The drive back to the bunker was pure Hell, and Sam should know. He’d endured some terrible journeys in this car over the years, but none measured up to this one. He and Dean barely spoke unless it was necessary. Dean couldn’t even look at him, his gaze sliding away whenever Sam tried to meet his eyes.

 

Sam didn’t think Dean blamed him. He suspected Dean had suppressed all his feelings of shame and disgust over what they had done, but now the crisis was over, his brother didn’t know how to deal with it. Sam scarcely knew how to deal with it himself, and for once he couldn’t even turn to Dean for help. Because he too felt shame, but not because of what they’d done. His shame was that he felt no disgust, that he still wanted Dean in that way. Perhaps he always had.

 

It was raining, the Impala wipers working overtime to keep the windshield clear. The gray skies reflected Sam’s mood. Once, in an unusual introspective mood, Lucifer had told him of the fateful day he’d spat his defiance into his Father’s face and God had struck him down, his brother Michael casting him into the Pit. Sharing headspace with the archangel had meant Sam had felt all of Lucifer’s anguish and pain and sense of betrayal. All of which had festered into hate and anger focused on Michael. For the first time, Sam felt a strange sense of kinship with the Devil. Their circumstances were completely different, but the black despair, this sense that he was truly, utterly alone in the universe that Lucifer had felt? That he could relate to.

 

*

 

Cas knew something was desperately wrong as soon as he walked into the garage to greet the Winchesters. Dean had been unusually circumspect on the phone about the witch they’d gone after and the atmosphere between the two men seemed to crackle with tension. 

 

Dean had gripped his shoulder so tight that if Cas had been human, he would have been left with a considerable bruise. And his muttered confession that he’d missed the angel was so unexpected, Cas couldn’t help but stare at his friend. And then Dean had stomped off, without so much as a word to Sam.

 

Sam seemed to be spiritually wounded. His soul, normally a bright and beautiful thing, was dull and lifeless. Sam was moving stiffly, his face oddly expressionless. Cas was used to Dean being hard to read, but Sam was usually much more open. Not today, today the younger Winchester was locked down so tight it made Cas feel like the slightest thing might make him explode.

 

“Sam,” he said tentatively. “Bad hunt?”

 

Sam gave a half-hearted shrug. “You could say that.”

 

“You can’t win them all,” the angel said. He’d heard that somewhere once, and it was the sort of thing humans said to each other as consolation.

 

“Right,” Sam said tonelessly. Cas frowned at him, perplexed. They’d had hunts go wrong for them before, it came with the job as far as he could tell. It had never hit Sam so hard before. The only time he’d seen Sam this down-- The angel blinked as revelation dawned. Whatever had gone wrong, Sam blamed himself. And maybe Dean blamed him too, given his demeanor. He didn’t know what to say, any platitudes he could come up with from his limited repertoire seemed inappropriate.

 

“I’m here if you want to talk,” he offered, unsure what else to do. Sam nodded and then suddenly clasped the angel fiercely to him, his chest heaving. Startled and increasingly alarmed, Cas wrapped his arms around Sam and felt the shudders that wracked his body.

 

The hunter was crying, he realized, great, gasping sobs as though his heart were broken. If Cas didn’t know Dean was alive and well, he would have thought Sam’s brother had died. He was completely at a loss, but Sam was his friend and if Sam needed to weep on his shoulder like the world was ending, then Cas felt this was not much to ask.

 

Eventually, Sam seemed to calm himself and he gently disengaged, his face red and puffy. “Sorry,” he said.

 

“Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Cas asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “No. I… I can’t. But you’re a good friend, Cas. Thanks.” He patted the angel on the shoulder and then walked slowly towards his room. Cas watched him go. He needed to fix this, but he didn’t have the faintest clue where to start.

 


End file.
